


The Empty Vessel

by thewritingotter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Kidnapping, M/M, one-sided twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 09:57:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewritingotter/pseuds/thewritingotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is kidnapped and after having received a dubious text from Lawrence Metro City's most notorious and dangerous bomber, Castiel and Dean rush to save the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Empty Vessel

Part 1:

It’s easy – too easy, a traitorous part of his mind grouches when Cas and he break in with the weakest resistance they’ve encountered since Garth the Invader’s sock puppet army – and so Dean’s surprised (and he shouldn’t be – weapons are a must for henchmen) to find a man, no, boy shaking and staring at him from behind the barrel of a gun when he turns a corner. Dean skids to a clumsy stop, arms pinwheeling for balance. Ah, shit, he thinks, shutting his eyes and bracing himself for the shot, his skin starting to turn into stone. With his dumb luck, the kid might actually sneak a bullet in just before Dean completely turns.

Instead of the bang he’s expecting, he hears a whoosh of air, and then everything’s silent, save for the quiet clack of the gun falling onto the floor. A hand touches his raised arms and Dean flinches – he has hardened completely, but even then, the cold from Castiel’s fingers manages to seep through the man’s leather glove and his stone layers. 

“Cas,” he grits through stiff lips – paralysis is a small payment for complete immunity from almost every weapon and element known to man. Cas obediently removes his hand and when Dean finally returns to callused and scarred skin, he sees ice covering the kid from head to toe, frightened eyes wide and unseeing. Cas alights next to him, dark wings fluttering nervously as his eyes land on the door at the end of the hallway.

“It’s a trap,” Cas says, voice so quiet Dean almost has to lean in close to hear him.

“I know,” Dean answers roughly, squaring his shoulders and marching on. Only an idiot would think they were good enough to best the mastermind behind the biggest and worst bombings in the history of Lawrence Metro City without breaking a sweat. If the Empty Vessel managed to slip through Henriksen’s best and brightest to plant a bomb into City Hall in broad daylight, why was it so easy and painless to get to him?

“Dean-“

“No, Cas,” he growls. 

They thought they stopped the bombings, him, Cas, and Sammy, detonating the mostly homemade explosives as soon as they detected them. It was quiet for a while after that – they haven’t caught the Empty Vessel, but they haven’t heard a peep from him either in almost a month. Sam said the “allure” (because only Sam would use words from a romance novel) of the explosions might have worn off or something, and Cas suggested that maybe the Empty Vessel was bored and moved on. Only Dean knew better – good things never last and sooner or later, the Empty Vessel would pop up again, guns and bombs a-blazin’.

He was right. 

Five days ago, Sam disappeared. Dean and Cas combed the city for him, senses struggling to catch even a whiff of his brother. They found nothing. This morning, someone texted Dean an address through Sam’s phone with the Empty Vessel’s signature sign-off. 

This is all very obviously a trap.

“But-“

“No!” Dean’s fingers clench into a fist, hands trembling to keep from turning into stone. “Please, Cas, just…” They had the same argument early on. Cas wanted to sit still and watch and plot; Dean’s willing to do whatever the fucker wants them to as long as he gets his baby brother back. It was only when he mentioned family – how no one, absolutely no one, is abandoned when it gets tough – that Cas shut up. Dean may not know a whole lot about his Cas, but he knows when he’s hit a chord.

Cas sighs and Dean hears his wings flap as the other man approaches. 

The door is so ordinary – all wood and metal – that Dean begins to feel panic settling into him. This- it’s all supposed to be more difficult: Sammy’s supposed to be tied up inside like the dude in distress that he is, and he and Cas are supposed to bust in, all bloody and heroic as shit, and the villain will laugh his maniacal little laugh, and Dean’s supposed to punch that stupid prick on the mouth for even daring to hurt his little brother. But this… this wooden door? It’s so _normal_. Like if Voldemort decided to invite Harry to the Three Broomsticks for a little negotiating instead of the big pow-wow at the end of movie number eight. 

Cas stops Dean’s hand before he can turn the doorknob, eyes smiling at him mischievously. He feels the temperature drop from Castiel’s mismatched gloved hands and then the other man’s pressing them against the door, webs of ice spreading and cracking over it and up the wall. Dean beams. His arms harden into boulders (it’s difficult to call on the earth this high up a building and twice as dangerous to cause an earthquake, but this, manipulating his body, this he can do) and he slams his stone fists through the door, splinter and ice raining into the room.

For a moment, Dean’s heart stops, panic clutching at him again as he thinks that maybe Sam isn’t here after all, that this was just a wild goose chase some other villain tossed them into after all, and then the dust and debris clears.

Dean wishes it hadn’t.

A man with Castiel’s face stands across from him, a grin that seems entirely too alien fixed on his lips. Sammy’s kneeling beside him, looking utterly pathetic with shiny bracelets linking his hands together. Dean can see it all so clearly, but he feels like everything’s a play without the right players – it’s all wrong, wrong, wrong. 

The grin on other-Castiel’s face (because whoever that is can’t be Cas, no, please don’t be Cas) is too wide, the chains on the bracelets keeping Sammy so quiet and feeble are too flimsy, and instead of the charged silence before every battle, with nothing but the pounding of his heart in his ears, faint piano music, sweet and a bit haunting, plays. 

Other-Castiel’s, no, the Empty Vessel’s eyes (Christ on a cracker, they even have the same deep blue colour) swing towards Dean’s. “Golem.” His voice isn’t as low and as fucked up as Castiel’s and that, for some strange reason, calms Dean a touch, and he manages to shoot the Empty Vessel a cocky (albeit shaky) smile.

“Douchebag.” He nods at the Empty Vessel. “Didn’t know you villains liked Beethoven. Would have thought emo music was more your thing.”

“It’s Chopin, you uncultured swine,” the Empty Vessel replies smoothly and Dean is starting to really hate that fake smile. “Fantaisie Impromptu played by the late Vladimir Horowitz. Of course, you wouldn’t know that; your taste in music is as extensive as your disgusting roadside diet.” 

“Don’t diss what you don’t know,” Dean says, warning bells ringing at the back of his mind at the Empty Vessel’s assessment. This man knows more about them than they did of him and as much as Dean likes to rag on Sam about his near neurotic obsession with research, he knows that knowledge against an enemy can make or break a fight. “Hey, Icicle did you know there are two of you?” When Cas doesn’t answer (and that’s strange because Cas once confided that he secretly tries to encourage Dean goading and teasing the villains despite Sam’s sound misgivings), he turns to his friend.

Instead of the controlled blankness Dean’s so used to, Cas’ features are slack, eyes flashing a lighter blue and mouth open. There’s none of the usual aloof indifference Cas often chooses to present to his enemies – this is Cas with his guard down, with his emotions so close to the surface. And that terrifies Dean just a little bit.

“Icicle,” Dean barks sharply and Castiel turns to him. “Are you-“

“Oh, no need to keep up with the silly little superhero names, boys,” Empty Vessel singsongs playfully, hands now carding through Sam’s stupidly long hair. 

“Keep your hands away from my brother, you creep,” Dean snarls.

“I know who you are,” the Empty Vessel continues smoothly, as if Dean hasn’t interrupted him at all. “Dean Winchester, mechanic and volunteer at the homeless shelter. Saviour of puppies and kitties and lost little souls lookin’ to be swept off their feet.” He turns to Cas. “And-“

“Jimmy,” Cas breathes at last and Dean’s head snaps so fast to the other hero that he thinks he heard his neck creak. “Jimmy.”

The Empty Vessel’s, no _Jimmy’s_ – and Christ, isn’t that name too normal and too ordinary for one of the sneakiest and craziest villain they’ve ever encountered – smile grows impossibly wider. “Hello, little brother.”

And then everything clicks. Cas casually mentioning his foster homes and his brother with only the vaguest details, Cas having no childhood photos save for one where his mom’s holding him up to the camera, Cas’ refusal to celebrate his own birthday…

Sam and Dean once joked that Cas was either hiding something big and potentially life ruining or running away from childhood nightmares. The probability that they are right at both counts hurts like fuck.

“You-“ Dean rounds Castiel, and he figures he must look a step away from insanity, but he can’t care less about that now. His Castiel, fucking Jimmy- are they working together? Did they plan this little shindig together? “ _Did you know_?”

Cas’ eyes turn to him, wide and frantic. Cas is a lot of things and being a shit liar is one of them. “No, Dean, how-“

There is a crack of electricity and Dean’s suddenly writhing on the floor, his nerves feeling as if they’re on fire, spine simultaneously trying to bow back and curl into itself. “Get away from my brother, you stupid rock,” Jimmy hisses.

Dean vaguely feels Cas pull something off his back, wings wide and arched over the two of them, and the fizzing noise stops, although he can still feel something not unlike needles stabbing at him over and over. “Dean,” Cas says, and Dean wishes he would stop looking so pathetically apologetic. That’s stupid and wrong – this isn’t Cas’ fault. None of it is. “I’m so sorry, Dean.”

“Do you like my gun, Castiel?” Dean hears Jimmy ask through the pain-filled haze he’s in. “I made it myself! It shoots bullets and electricity and- I made it, y’know, thinking I could protect you and me with it when we-“

Cas says something, rough and tense, and his wings flare menacingly behind him.

The music turns quieter, sweeter, more delicate, and with it, Jimmy’s face softens. “Come, Castiel, leave that stupid lug behind,” Jimmy says, and there’s something in the way he said it, something desperate and pleading, that Dean’s at once reminded of the time Sammy wanted a stray puppy so much he tried to run away with it. 

“Dude,” he wheezes incredulously, struggling to sit up and ignore the little pinpricks of pain. “Did you actually bomb half the city to get your brother’s attention? That’s… that’s so not cool.”

Jimmy’s nostrils flare (just like Castiel’s does when he’s furious, Dean notes uselessly) and there’s a crackle of electricity when he swings an ornate gun towards Dean. “You,” he snarls, “you don’t get to talk, Dean Winchester; _you_ made a deal with the Crossroad Demon for _your_ brother. Even Garth the Idiot is smart enough to keep away from Bela Talbot.”

“Jimmy,” Cas says quietly, and Dean shivers. Cas only uses that tone when he’s on the verge of erupting and he’s trying to keep himself together. Dean’s suddenly grateful he’s not Jimmy. “Why?”

“Castiel.” A sigh and then Jimmy drops his gun hand, shoulders curved and slumped underneath the sharp cut of his suit. “Cassie, I just- I miss you.”

Dean scoffs. “What, a phone too plebeian for you, bomber boy?” Castiel’s hand on his shoulder tightens and Dean winces. “What?”

“Quiet,” Cas admonishes. “Gol- Dean does have a point, Jimmy.”

“What is this, twenty questions?” Jimmy laughs, the sound coming off entirely too empty. “No, no, it’s my turn, isn’t it? Tell me, Cassie, how long will you stay until you up and leave this brainless brute?” Cas stiffens and ah, this is one question Dean most definitely doesn’t want Cas to answer. Dean would be lying if he claims that he hasn’t asked himself that, terrified that he’ll wake up to Cas’ bed empty and cold with nothing but his memories left. Cas has left them before, flitted off to god knows where for days on end. How long will it be before Cas flies off for good?

“Because you, ah, what was it you said?” Jimmy hums, tapping his chin with the barrel of his gun. “‘Forever, Jimmy’, you said, ‘we’ll be together forever.’ Well, little brother,” he gestures around them, and Dean’s heart almost stops when the gun whips around. “This isn’t how I envisioned ‘forever’.”

Cas flinches. “Jimmy, you know-“

“Your turn, Golem!” Jimmy beams at Dean. “Come on, I know that thick head of yours must be brimming with questions! Ask away, ask away!” He gestures at Dean encouragingly, charming fake smile in place.

“I-“ Dean’s eyes flick from Jimmy to Sam to Cas and then back to Jimmy. That feeling of wrongness is weighing heavily on him again. They’re supposed to have beaten the Empty Vessel by now, saved Sam by now. Why does it feel like everything – Sam’s life, his and Castiel’s- whatever it was between them – is hanging into balance, everything just a question or a careless remark away from falling off a cliff? “I don’t- I don’t know, Cas, what-“ he turns to his friend. “What’s going on?”

“‘What’s going on’? That’s your question?” Jimmy chortles. “See, Dean, when someone loves someone very much-“

“I’m not asking you, dipstick,” Dean shoots back.

“Dean,” Cas says in warning, voice low and cautious. “We have to play his game, remember?”

“I know! But he’s a dick, okay, and I don’t like this at all.”

Cas sighs heavily. “He’s not a dick, Dean.”

“Family or not, you know he is-“

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here!” Jimmy suddenly yells, startling Dean and Cas. “I’m here and I exist and don’t I deserve-“ he pauses suddenly, eyes wide, and he looks so much like Cas that something in Dean’s chest twists painfully. “You know what, I’m sick of twenty questions. Let’s just,” he runs a shaky hand through his hair, “let’s just get on with this, shall we? Right to the point, yes.”

“Finally,” Dean mutters, and he earns Castiel’s fingers clutching painfully at his shoulder again.

“A brother for a brother,” Jimmy says, wide smile back. “I want Castiel in exchange for one Sam Winchester.” He shakes Sam by his collar. 

No, Dean almost says automatically, but he pauses. Sam always, always, always comes first. When they were little and whenever Dad left them on their own in a motel in Bumfuck, Nowhere, Sam always got the last bite, no matter how hungry Dean was; Sam always got to pick his bed first; Sam should always be safe first, always be protected no matter how much he whines against it, should always be left alive longer. 

And Cas knows this.

But then, Cas is also family and Dean meant it when he told him that no one gets abandoned. So how is he supposed to make this decision? How is he supposed to sell one person he (adored, respected, loved?) liked for someone else? “What are you gonna do with him?” Dean asks. “Drag him along to some bombing spree and force him to power up your dynamites? Because, I’m sorry, dude, but that’s a shitty way to treat your brother.”

Jimmy shakes his head slowly. “Dean, Dean, Dean,” Jimmy chides, as if Dean’s a stupid child who can’t comprehend that red mixed with yellow produces orange. “All I want is my forever. I get my brother back, Golem gets his Flame back. Sound deal, isn’t it?”

On paper, it is. This is about Cas and Sam though, and they’re human, they shouldn’t be dealt like poker chips.

“Okay, look, I understand that this is a very difficult decision to make,” Jimmy says, face pulled into mock-understanding. “I want my brother back because I love him and you dolts don’t deserve him. You want your brother back because you’re family and families stick together. And this should be a piece of cake, but you also want to bang my brother. I completely, completely, understand. On the other hand,” he grins cheerfully, “I have bombs placed in strategic points all over the hospital, the library, and that huge Walmart all the moms are raving about. I can, I don’t know, blow that place up while you go and mull this shit over for another hour. You can’t make me wait for too long, Dean.”

Dean growls, arms turning into boulders. “Listen, you stupid little-“

“Yes,” Cas interrupts, pushing Dean behind him. “I’m coming with you, Jimmy, just let Sam go.”

“No, Cas, you can’t-“

“This isn’t your decision to make, Dean,” Cas cuts in coldly, and he’s stepping away and towards Jimmy, back straight and wings folded neatly. 

Dean wants to stop him, tell him that there must be some other way, a loophole, a weakness (and Cas would know Jimmy’s) they can exploit, but his voice dies when Jimmy snaps his fingers and the bracelets around Sam’s wrist clatter onto the floor and Sam begins to follow them. Dean stumbles to his brother’s side, cradling and hugging Sam like when he was seven and Sammy was three and finally old enough to remember nightmares. Please be alright, please be alright, please…

He hears Jimmy whisper so, so softly, “I knew you’d choose me, Cassie”, and when Dean turns to look, he sees Jimmy wrap his arms around Cas, kissing his twin’s temple tenderly, almost reverently, before making his way down closed eyelids and then the tip of his nose. And when Jimmy tilts his head and presses his lips firmly against Castiel’s, they vanish, leaving Sam and Dean with a faint flap of wings and the last few bars of Chopin in their wake.


End file.
